By Carl Zebrowski
Editor

Hagit Yaso woke up early on October 7, 2023, in her home in Sderot, Israel, near the Gaza border. The weather was perfect and she headed out for a run. It was Shabbat and, as a Jew who keeps Shabbat, she didn’t take her phone. 

Yaso, a daughter of Ethiopian Jews who were evacuated by airlift out of Sudan to Israel 40 years ago and a former winner of the Israeli version of “American Idol,” happened to be performing in Washington, D.C., in February. It came up there that her next stop was Allentown, Pennsylvania, to visit relatives. Word of that spread to the Jewish Federation of the Lehigh Valley.

It was fate, and the efforts of the Federation and Temple Beth El, that brought Yaso to TBE to tell her survival story to the Lehigh Valley community. And it was the desire to hear that story (and her singing!) that brought over 100 people to TBE’s sanctuary on Thursday night, February 27, on short notice.

Not long into Yaso’s morning run on October 7, air raid sirens started screaming. There were gunshots, explosions. Yaso headed for the nearest bomb shelter. “I turned to God,” she said, “Why did you put me in this situation?”

Missile launches from Gaza were not unusual in Sderot, even as the current situation was proving much worse. Yaso knew well the frequent routine of hearing sirens and running to safety. She and her siblings were raised in Sderot, born to parents who’d met for the first time on their wedding day in Ethiopia and endured a difficult aliyah via mass air evacuation. They lived for a while outside Sderot and then moved into the city. 

As Yaso fled from Hamas to the bomb shelter, she saw two friends passing on bikes. “Wait for me!” she yelled. She heard gunfire. “I have to go,” one friend responded and took off. 

More shooting. Yaso changed course. “Something inside me said take a left and go to another bomb shelter,” she said. Hearing terrorists coming closer, she ducked into some bushes to hide. They shot and killed her one friend on the bike.

They didn’t see Yaso. She made it to the shelter and entered. The doors were bolted behind her. The terrorists were not far behind. “All the time there,” she recalled, “terrorists are coming and waiting.” 

Eventually the terrorists left and Yaso fled. Out on the street, she found a man running, “in shock,” who invited her to follow him. They reached a gas station where 11 Israelis were hiding and joined them inside. Before long: “There are terrorists outside,” she said. “I pray and I cry and I say God will save us.” She and the other Israelis remained hidden there for seven hours before security arrived and took them to safety. She was able to talk with a psychologist about the traumatic experience.

As the situation remained unpredictable, Yaso went to stay temporarily in a Jerusalem hotel. “During that time, I was focused on my mourning for friends and others killed,” she said. She met a woman and some others who had been through similar ordeals on October 7. “We ran together to help deal with the trauma.” 

She soon returned to Sderot. “It wasn’t really a city like it was when I left,” she said. “It was dark and scary. I just couldn’t leave my house.” Not wanting to be alone, she went to stay with her sister for a while. “Slowly I was able to get back to my routine.”

Yaso had a talk with her father about their home, the current predicament, and the future. “Why do we need to live here?” she asked. 

“I went through this long and tough way to get to Israel,” he told her, “and nothing will break my spirit. We’re here to stay.”

Conditions have begun to improve in Sderot over the year and a half since the Hamas attacks. “The city is coming back to life,” Yaso said. “Because there is a ceasefire, it’s pretty much quiet. Soon it will probably go back to the rockets and everything.” 

Yaso said she’ll continue to speak to interested communities and other groups about her experience as long as she can make a positive impact. “It helps to talk about it so we won’t forget, so there won’t be another October 7,” she said, “and to be united no matter where we are around the world.